


Raiders from the North

by A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin



Series: Will We Be Stuck Like This Forever? [11]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Vikings, M/M, Mentions of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin/pseuds/A_God_A_Vampire_And_Two_Heirs_Of_Durin
Summary: After a terrible harvest, the men from the north come seeking food for to survive the winter months.In a small village which escaped the worst of it, Fate awaits the raiders.
Relationships: Anders Johnson/John Mitchell
Series: Will We Be Stuck Like This Forever? [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/126087
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jwahl88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jwahl88/gifts), [ThatIsNotIrony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatIsNotIrony/gifts), [OctobersLily510](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctobersLily510/gifts).



> So it's been nearly 6 years but, somehow, I'm back! I had a few requests for a Vikings AU for this series, so here it is. I can't guarantee it's my best work - having not written a single fic for so many years has meant that this one isn't quite in the same tone as my earlier stories, nor does the pacing seem quite right. It's turned out with somewhat more fluff than this series usually entails, and I'm not sure the characterisations are entirely where I wanted them to be - Anders seems to be more Fíli for some of it than he probably should have been!
> 
> It's also maybe not the most historically faithful story either. The archaeologist part of me didn't to write stereotypical Viking raiders, but is also disappointed that I didn't put more research into it. So, as I said, perhaps not my best work but I guess after 6 years it's better than nothing!

It was a chilled October morning when the raiders came. The year’s harvest had been poor across the land but nowhere more so than in the north, and Mitchell had heard rumours that the raiders were moving steadily southwards in search of scarce supplies. Mitchell’s own village had suffered but they had at least escaped the worst of it. Of course, this simply made them a greater target, and they didn’t make much of a fighting force.

Mitchell had thought that perhaps they ought to help their fellow men, but the village elders weren’t inclined to take his counsel anymore, and nor was he inclined to care much about their opinion of him. He was officially thought of as a nuisance here, interfering in business which wasn’t his own. Of course, his own business didn’t seem based in the village at all, he was all alone there since his parents had died, and the one person his heart yearned for had so far failed to make any sort of appearance. So, he guessed, in truth, he was almost happy to leave the village to its fate, feeling so detached to it as he did.

And so it was the early hours when the attack came. There was no warning, no preparation. Under the cover of darkness, a raiding party had come right up to their palisade walls and breached them with barely a fight.

The first Mitchell knew of it was the smell of smoke permeating through the air and the clash of metal. Both sensations had him leaping from his bed in horror. The hearth had been cold before he’d fallen asleep that night, yet smoke meant fire, and that was never a good thing. He threw the nearest tunic over his head and fastened his belt, his sword was next, then his hunting knives and his bow. He wasn’t a soldier but he was a good huntsmen and he wouldn’t hesitate to take down a man who was a threat.

A soft whimper from the pallet opposite his own bed stopped him in his hurry to see what the commotion was outside.

“John?” a soft voice called out, wavering in such a way that Mitchell knew it would turn into a full-blown cry soon. He tucked his knife into his belt and put the bow down beside him as he crouched in front of the terrified child, who now sat upright in bed.

“I’m here, Eadmund,” Mitchell said gently, one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I need to see what’s happening outside and I need you to stay very, very quiet for me. Don’t make a sound until I come back to you, do you understand?”

“Is it something bad?” Eadmund asked, his eyes wide as he took in the sword at Mitchell’s hip. He didn’t wear it often, and he certainly didn’t make a habit of using it.

“I don’t know,” Mitchell replied honestly, “But it sounds like it could be. That’s why I need you to stay here for me. Look after your brother, if he wakes up, you must try and keep him quiet too.” He cast a quick glance at the sleeping toddler on the pile of blankets nearby. The fact that he continued to sleep was some sort of miracle, but Mitchell was worried it wouldn’t last.

With one last nod to Eadmund, he got to his feet and picked his bow back up, slinging it over one shoulder whilst he approached the door. The sounds outside had intensified and through the wooden slats of door Mitchell could now see the bright orange of nearby flames. That explained the fire then, but not the clang of metal still echoing in the air, now interspersed with frequent screams. He could see the outlines of figures moving swiftly in the low light of dawn but none had come near his home. Not that he had expected them to, of course, they would all be more than happy to abandon him and the children to their fates.

Carefully, he opened the door a fraction, enough so that he could see better what was truly happening. Across the village there was utter chaos, people running in haste in all directions, some armed and others with meagre belongings clutched in their arms. More buildings were alight now, the smoke drifting over the village and clouding Mitchell’s vision.

He was about to close the door again when he saw them. A group of unfamiliar men with shields strapped to their backs and swords at their sides hauling sacks from the grain store, and another group helping themselves to the meat stores nearby. The raiders from the north, it seemed, had finally found their village and decided to take their harvest for themselves.

Mitchell was glancing to the left towards the village boundary, trying to calculate whether he’d have enough time to gather the boys and make a break for it, when one of the men from the nearest group started gesturing in his direction. He couldn’t understand what they were saying but as one of them started moving towards his home he knew that there was no way they could make it to the wall unseen.

He ducked back inside in a hurry, looking for something to bar the door with. He wasn’t sure it was the best idea if the raiders decided to set the building alight around them, but it might turn their interest away if they couldn’t gain immediate access.

“John, what’s happening?” Eadmund spoke up quietly from the corner.

Mitchell went to hush him but the look of fear on the little boy’s face nearly broke his heart. He forgot his task of barricading the door for a moment and came back to kneel in front of him.

“I’m afraid that men have come,” he explained, “Men who are hungry, and we have food.”

“Then why don’t we just give them some?”

Mitchell smiled sadly.

“It isn’t that simple,” he said, “They came without asking or warning and the village is trying to fight back.”

“Will they come for us? We have no food here.”

“No, we do not,” Mitchell agreed, “We must hope that they leave us alone. Now, stay with your brother, I must find something to bar the door.”

“To stop the bad men?”

“To stop the bad men.”

Mitchell turned back to his task, his eyes falling on his family’s old wooden chest which sat in one corner; it wasn’t particularly heavy but would do the job until he could load more items around it. He was just taking hold of one end when he heard the sound of the latch lifting and the door started to swing open.

Mitchell sprung back in horror. He swiftly slipped his bow from where it was slung over his shoulder and took up an arrow, moving in front of the boys so that they were obscured from view. If he had to, he would fell the man as soon as he stepped inside. An arrow at such close range would surely be deadly, and Mitchell was an extremely good shot.

Finally the door was fully open, and Mitchell could see the gleam of the fires on the man’s chainmail and armour. He had a shield on his back but his sword was ready in his hand. Mitchell drew the bowstring back until it was taut, his breath steady as he waited for the perfect moment to strike.

The man half-stepped into the room carefully, still somewhat using the door as a makeshift shield on his left arm. His blond hair seemed like a beacon in the dawn light that came flooding into Mitchell’s dark home. He took one look at Mitchell, standing protectively on the far side of the room, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Mitchell’s own sudden intake of breath completely threw him out of the focused state of mind he’d entered and, in his shock, he misfired the arrow. It flew past its target by scarcely any distance at all and buried itself in the far wall.

The blond man’s eyes widened even more.

“John! You nearly shot me!”

“I thought you were going to kill me!” Mitchell cried in return, dropping his bow to the floor.

“Well, then you did a terrible job!”

“If you hadn’t been, well, _you_ , then you definitely wouldn’t still be here to criticise.”

“You were always good with a bow.” Anders smiled slyly now. “You’re good with a lot of things.”

Suddenly, there was a muffled noise from behind Mitchell, and then the sounds of crying.

“I’m sorry, John,” said a panicked voice, “He just woke up and he won’t stay quiet.”

Mitchell turned to find Eadmund crouching by his younger brother’s side, a hand on the toddler’s shoulder as he scrunched his face up and continued to cry. The elder brother looked up at Mitchell and then across the room at the newcomer, his sword still drawn.

“Is he going to hurt us? He’s got a sword.”

Mitchell looked at the boy and shook his head.

“No, I promise you that he would never harm us. Eadmund, this is Anders, he’s a…a friend.”

He looked back up towards where the blond man was stood, his sword now lowered.

“John,” he asked quietly, “Why are there children here?” His gaze betrayed some apprehension as he met Mitchell’s eyes. There had never been children involved before in their lives and he didn’t entirely know how to deal with this newfound knowledge. “Are they yours?”

“In a way,” Mitchell replied, “I adopted them after their parents passed. I’m all they have now.”

Anders almost breathed a sigh of relief, and then nodded.

“They come with us then?”

“Yes, I won’t leave them.”

Anders nodded again, lowering himself until he was at eye level with the two children.

“Hello,” he said gently, “What’s your brother’s name, Eadmund?”

“Osgar,” Eadmund replied, the toddler now just hiccupping tearily as his older brother stroked his hair. “Are the people outside going to hurt us? You came from outside.”

Anders shook his head. He didn’t really know how to deal with children, but he hoped that his words were reassuring.

“No one will hurt you,” he promised. “I’m going to get you all out of here if that’s what John wants?” He looked back at Mitchell, who nodded.

“You can’t stay here,” he said, “The village would execute you for the raiding. And there’s nothing for us here. In fact, I think they’d all be rather glad to see us go.”

Anders frowned.

“Why would they…?”

“Not now. Later.” Mitchell paused. “Will we be alright coming with you? This year has been hard enough without extra mouths to feed.”

“If you think I’m leaving you behind then you’re an idiot,” Anders retorted. “That isn’t how this works, is it?”

No, it wasn’t. But then if this had been any other time, they’d have fallen into each other’s arms by now. Except they couldn’t do that with the children to think about, or the fact that any one of Anders’ comrades could appear in the doorway at any moment.

“Bring anything with you that you value,” the blond said decisively. “We should get moving.”

Mitchell nodded, moving to grab a sack from the foot of his bed and beginning to stuff items inside it. He didn’t own much that he would miss, his family had never been wealthy enough to afford trinkets and he had no keepsakes or family heirlooms to safeguard. Instead, the sack was filled with their few clothes, the whittled wooden toys he’d made for the children, and his hunting equipment. He took their cloaks down from their pegs on the wall, fastening both of the boys into theirs before throwing his own around his shoulders. Then he tied his bow to the sack of belongings and hitched both of them onto his back, his sword stayed sheathed at his hip with his hunting knife beside it.

“We’re ready,” he said to Anders. “There’s nothing else here that we’ll miss.” Then he turned to the boys. “Time to go,” he said gently. “We’re going with Anders now. I want you to both be good for me, okay? Eadmund, stay close to me, keep a hold of my cloak. I’ll take your brother.” And he reached down for the now somewhat calmed toddler and balanced him on his hip. Eadmund stood from where he’d been crouched, pulling his cloak around himself nervously.

Anders watched the scene in front of him quietly. The way that Mitchell was cradling Osgar on one hip made something twinge within him. They’d never had children. How could they have? And he’d never really thought it bothered him, he got to have Mitchell for however long Fate gave them, and that was all that had mattered. But now, watching Mitchell, he was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time around they would get to be some form of family.

He was thrown from his reverie though by the feeling of a small, warm palm against his, and fingers curling around his own. He looked down to find Eadmund looking back up at him, his eyes wide in wonder.

“John said you’d keep me safe,” he said, and his grip tightened around Anders’ hand.

For a moment, Anders just stared back at the boy, until he heard Mitchell chuckle quietly from behind him.

“Yes, of course,” he replied finally, “Just stay close.”

Eadmund nodded, and let Anders lead him towards the door, Mitchell following behind with Osgar tucked against him. As the blond man was about to step outside, he felt a light touch at his free hand. He glanced back at a smiling Mitchell, who gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

They all stepped out together into the early morning light. The smoke from the fires was still hanging in the air, making visibility poor, and there were still the occasional screams from the frightened villagers. The raiders could be identified by their armour and their shields, and Mitchell could see some of them moving in a group up ahead.

“Anders!” a voice called, one of the men moving towards them. “We feared something had happened to you when you didn’t reappear. We’ve got what we can, and…” He trailed away as the four figures came out of the smoke before him. “Anders, who are these people?”

“Erik,” Anders greeted the other man, “They’re coming with us. This is John, and these boys are his.”

“Anders, these are more mouths to feed. We have what we came for, we cannot take this man or these children.”

“Are you telling me no?” Anders raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten who is in charge here? If I decide that John comes with us, then he comes with us.” Mitchell’s own eyebrows raised at that. “Anyway, John here is a huntsman and we are in sore need of hunters. It’s only logical.”

The man named Erik let out a short laugh.

“That hall of yours getting lonely?” he smirked. “Fine, let’s get moving.”

He motioned at the other raiders standing around and they finished loading the sacks onto a nearby cart, which was then wheeled towards the edge of the village. Anders lifted Eadmund up and placed him in amongst the sacks.

“Hold on,” he told him, “I don’t want you to fall.”

As they passed the hall of the village elders, a woman cowering in the doorway stepped out and spat at Mitchell’s feet.

“Good riddance,” she snapped, “We have no want of your curses here. We shan’t forget this betrayal.”

Anders’ hand flew to his sword, but Mitchell’s restraining hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

“She’s not worth it,” he said calmly. “I just want to leave, Anders.”

“Of course,” the blond nodded. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

The journey back to Anders’ home took the better part of the rest of the day. The party rode down to the nearby coast where a number of ships were waiting for them. Anders stopped a few times to speak to several people, and then he found somewhere for Mitchell to sit the boys down, both of them falling asleep in Mitchell’s arms almost immediately. And then, finally, the two men were alone.

“What happened back there?” Anders asked, “About the village not wanting you. Why didn’t you leave?”

“Where would I have gone?” Mitchell replied. “It only started a few months ago, anyway, when I took in the boys. It’s them that the villagers hate so much. Just children but they remind them of their parents and that’s set them apart.”

“What did their parents do?”

Mitchell’s scowled.

“Nothing,” he said, “They were just outsiders. They took shelter in the village last winter and ended up staying, except then this year the crops didn’t grow as well and of course they looked for someone to blame. The boys’ parents were claimed to have been seen cursing the soil at night so that the crops would fail. It was ridiculous, of course, they were completely harmless, just different.”

“What happened to them?”

“They both fell ill at the same time. The elders claimed it was punishment for their crimes and forbade anyone to help them. I was the only one willing to bring them food for the boys, but I couldn’t help them. When they passed, I took the boys in and tried to give them as much protection as I could.”

“People are bastards,” Anders said with feeling, and Mitchell laughed beside him.

“Yes, they are,” he replied, “Some of them anyway.” His hands sought out Anders’. “Others are worth waiting for in every lifetime. I’m glad I’ve found you.”

“How long do you think we’ve got?”

“I don’t know,” Mitchell replied truthfully. “I worry about the boys though. You know that once Fate comes for one of us, it will take both of us before too long, and then who will they have?”

Anders glanced around to make sure that they were alone and then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Mitchell’s lips.

“Come now,” he said, “Do not speak of that now.”

Mitchell smiled for a moment and then pulled away.

“What did you mean when you said you were in charge?” he asked. “Is this your raiding party?”

Anders grinned smugly.

“These are my people,” he said. “My father led them until a year or so ago, but then he passed away and the responsibility came to me. I do my best to make sure they survive, hence these raids.” He paused. “It’s been a long time since either of us was nobility, hasn’t it?”

The words Crown Prince came unbidden into Mitchell’s mind at that moment, though as far as he remembered, they had never been royalty.

“It suits you,” he said, “It feels right. You always were good at diplomacy, talking your way into and out of places.”

Anders laughed.

“I pray to our god of words every day that I shall never find myself unable to speak,” he said.

“You think any god but Fate listens to us?”

“I don’t know, these ones feel closer somehow. As if they really are listening.”

“Maybe they are, this time.”

* * *

At least, it seemed for some time that the gods were smiling on them.

Anders moved Mitchell and the boys into his own longhouse with him. It was a spacious aisled building with a space for storage in the roof, and curtained partitions at either end for sleeping in. The boys were given one end to themselves, with the instruction just to call out in the night if they needed anything, whilst Anders and Mitchell had the far end for their own bed. No one dared disturb Anders’ arrangements and so no one would ever find that there was just one bed in the room rather than two.

The boys were introduced to Erik’s two children, a boy and a girl, who were a similar age to them, and became inseparable. Anders particularly enjoyed the fact that if they were under the watchful eye of Erik’s wife then he and Mitchell could spend some time alone in their home.

Anders’ role as leader meant that he had to travel with his men, though he tried to limit their raiding to utter necessity and sought out trade missions instead. Mitchell came along on only the rare occasion, Anders insisting that not only did someone need to stay with the boys, but also that Mitchell’s hunting skills were needed to keep the village fed whilst most of the men were away. He also privately entrusted Mitchell with the task of being his eyes and ears to what went on when he wasn’t around. He didn’t suspect any mutinous feelings amongst his people, but he felt better knowing that Mitchell was there.

He always made sure to bring something back for Mitchell when they went trading. Perhaps a new bow, or some furs, or even, once, a belt buckle in the shape of a raven with Baltic amber inset into the eyes. He said it would bring him the protection of Odin, and that Mitchell was like his own raven, watching and gathering information for him.

“If I am your raven, do you think Odin would like you comparing yourself to him?” Mitchell had laughed.

Anders had grinned.

“Well, maybe one day we’ll both meet Odin and see how he likes me,” he retorted. “Perhaps I’ll be the one giving him advice.”

For ten years, they lived together in their home and watched their boys grow up into young men. Eadmund joined Anders’ men as soon as he was old enough to hold a sword, proving himself to be a skilled and capable warrior who was well liked by his fellow warriors. When he was ready, Anders began taking him with him overseas, and Mitchell had to watch as both he and Anders sailed away.

Osgar, whilst as talented as Mitchell with a bow, did not take to swordsmanship as easily as his elder brother, so instead he took an apprenticeship with the settlement’s blacksmith. His first knife, made under careful supervision, was presented to his older brother as a coming of age gift, which Eadmund wore proudly on his belt.

At that same ceremony, Anders announced, as many had been expecting him to do for many years, that he was naming Eadmund as his heir, and that he would be betrothed to Erik’s daughter. It did not matter to them that the boy was not Anders’ son, nor that he had not been born in their settlement, he had already proved himself in battle and Anders had been teaching him the ways of diplomacy and trading already for many years.

Mitchell couldn’t remember the last time they’d had so much time together; that they’d been so happy together; that they’d ever had a family to raise together.

And then, finally, their luck ran out.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s not a raid, John,” Anders said, tucking his sword into its sheath and hitching his shield onto his back. “There’s just been some trouble up the coast and they’ve asked for our help. Hopefully, once the troublemakers see us arriving, they’ll turn around and flee. They haven’t become a threat, they’re simply a nuisance for our allies.”

“I worry about you,” Mitchell admitted. “Every year, I marvel at the fact that I still have you.”

“And I, as always, appreciate your concern,” Anders grinned. “Since it means you must care about me a great deal.”

“Of course I care about you.” If Mitchell didn’t feel more apprehensive than usual, he’d have rolled his eyes fondly. “Why do you need to go anyway? If you’re just going to appear on the horizon and frighten these men away, why do they need you?”

“I’m their leader. I have to lead.” He paused for a moment in his preparations to step close to Mitchell and place his hands firmly on the other man’s waist. “Eadmund is coming with me, he’ll keep an eye on me for you. He always does.”

“I worry about him too.”

“John, please, you’re making this harder than it always is to leave you,” Anders sighed, reaching up to rest his forehead against Mitchell’s. “I worry about you too, you know. I worry that the settlement will be raided and I will not have left enough men to defend it. Or that I’ll return and find a sickness has swept through here and left all to die.”

“Then stay here. With me. With our sons.”

Anders smiled fondly at that. They didn’t openly claim the boys as their sons in public, apart from Anders naming Eadmund as his heir, but they had both said it in private for many years now.

“John, I cannot,” he said finally, “You must stay here and look after Osgar whilst we are gone. We will be back in a day or two, no longer.” He leaned in for a tender kiss. “I love you. Keep safe.”

“I love you too,” Mitchell returned, “And that is why…” Anders silenced him with a finger to his lips.

“No,” he said, “Don’t say it again. Now, I must go before I am tempted to lay you down on this bed and say goodbye to you properly. But unfortunately, this armour takes far too long to get in and out of for that.”

“When you return,” Mitchell promised.

“When I return.”

* * *

Mitchell and Osgar watched them go from the shoreline with everyone else. Anders stood at the bow of the middle ship, looking out towards the horizon as usual, though he threw Mitchell a smile over his shoulder as they set sail. On the same ship, Eadmund stood at the stern, waving madly to his younger brother and Mitchell.

When they were finally out of view, Mitchell put his arm around Osgar’s shoulders and turned him back towards the settlement.

“Come,” he said, “Perhaps with those two out of the house we might finally get some cleaning done.”

Osgar screwed his face up.

“I hate cleaning,” he said. “Let’s go hunting instead.”

“It’s too late for hunting today. If we clean today, we shall hunt tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Slightly mollified, Osgar nodded, and the two of them headed back up towards their longhouse together.

As promised, Mitchell took Osgar hunting the next day from dawn to dusk. They found little game of consequence but it seemed to serve as a good distraction for them both, and when they made their way back to the settlement as night fell, Mitchell allowed himself a little hope that Anders and Eadmund would be waiting for them when they returned.

Alas, the longhouse was as empty as when they had left it. There was no sign of the ships on the horizon. A sinking feeling settled itself into the depths of Mitchell’s stomach as he lay down to sleep that night, pulling the blankets around himself and falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He was awoken in the early hours of the morning by a pounding on the door and the sound of shouting. Throwing his tunic over his head and pulling his boots on, he stumbled out of bed and hurried to see what was happening.

Erik’s son was standing on his threshold, panting heavily as if he had been running.

“What is it?” Mitchell asked, “What’s happened?”

“The ships,” the boy managed to say. “They have returned. Father said to fetch you, immediately.”

Mitchell swore and was out of the door before the boy could say anything more. Osgar appeared at that moment, his cloak thrown around his shoulders. He took one look at his friend on the doorstep and the two of them took off down the path after the older man.

The shoreline was full of people already, the ships looming up out of the water like menacing shadows. As they saw Mitchell approaching, the crowd seemed to move as one, parting silently to let him through until he reached Erik who stood facing one of the ships, his hand bracing himself against the side.

“Erik! Where is he? What’s happened?”

Mitchell took in the other man’s pale face and immediately knew that this was it: the moment that everything went wrong.

“John, I am so sorry, there’s nothing we could do. He’s still on board. Eadmund is with him.”

“Is he…?”

“He doesn’t have long left.”

That was all Mitchell needed to know before he was climbing aboard. Eadmund was waiting for him, bringing him forward to where Anders lay, before the two of them knelt g by the blond’s side.

Mitchell took in the sight in front of him. Anders’ body seemed swathed in bandages, from one around one of his thighs, to the ones wrapped around his stomach, to the one over his left shoulder. He’d lost his shield and his sword, and someone had stripped him of his armour, and the clothing he had left was torn and bloodstained.

“What happened?” Mitchell asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“We were ambushed,” Eadmund replied, “He took out their leader, but not before they’d done us considerable damage.”

Mitchell noticed now the bandages around his eldest son’s left arm.

“You’re hurt too.”

“Barely a scratch.” Eadmund fell silent for a moment. “I couldn’t get to him in time. I should have been there defending him.”

Mitchell wrapped his arms around his son and held him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It would never have been your fault. Fate comes for us both in the end. We just didn’t know when.”

“What do you mean?”

Mitchell shook his head.

“Not now,” he said, “Fetch Osgar to say goodbye.”

Eadmund turned and headed to collect his younger brother. Mitchell turned back to Anders. The blond man’s breathing was shallow and laboured, his pulse weak, but he still clung to life for just a little while longer. Mitchell wrapped his arms around him and shifted him so that his head was cradled in his lap.

“Hello, love,” he said softly, “The time has come for us to leave this place, I see.”

Anders’ lips flickered up in the hint of a wry smile.

“You told me not to go,” he whispered.

“And what’s done is done,” Mitchell replied, “I will come with you, love.”

“But the boys…”

“Are men now.”

“It is not your time,” Anders said softly, “We don’t know what this will do to us if we force Fate’s hand.”

“I make no promises,” Mitchell replied. “My heart is already breaking.”

At this moment, Eadmund returned with Osgar in tow and the two of the bent down to pay their last respects to the man who had taken them in as children and who had raised them as his own. When they were finished, Mitchell gathered the weakening blond into his arms and held him against his chest, standing up and heading for the shore.

“We should prepare the necessary rites as befitting our leader,” Erik said, seeing Anders in Mitchell’s arms.

Mitchell nodded but his eyes did not seem to really see him.

“Just give me a moment with him,” he said, not waiting for Erik’s reaction before he was heading from the shore up to where the trees met the edge of the settlement, and then he vanished from sight.

* * *

Mitchell kept walking until he reached a clearing on the far side of the forest that he knew well. Here he stopped and sat down, resting his back against a nearby tree and letting Anders lie in his lap. The blond’s chest rose and fell in stuttering breaths, and Mitchell tucked his head close under his chin, his hands clasped within his own.

“We’re alone now, my love,” he said, as Anders’ eyes opened for the last time. “Until we meet again.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get a life like this one again?” the blond asked.

“I don’t know,” Mitchell said. “Perhaps your gods were watching over us this time.”

“I must remember to thank them when I meet them,” Anders grinned weakly. “I could tell Bragi that I was a poet in a past life.”

“Yes, you do that. And wait for me.”

“Always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mitchell felt the moment the last breath left Anders’ body and he cradled him to his chest and wept.

* * *

It didn’t take long for him to build a funeral pyre. He knew that he should have taken Anders’ body back by now, that he should be waiting until the settlement had performed the rites that were owed to Anders as their leader, but something wouldn’t let him. Anders belonged to him, not this place, their souls moving so constantly across history that Mitchell no longer felt that they belonged to anywhere but themselves. He didn’t know how he’d face his boys when he returned, how he’d explain that he too would soon be gone from this world.

Eventually, his task was done and he laid Anders carefully atop the pyre, covering him with his own cloak and laying his sword beside him. He pressed a soft kiss on the blond man’s forehead and then climbed down to set it alight.

He stood back to watch the flames take hold, watching them dance across the wood in the same way that they had back in the village when they’d first met. They were mesmerising, holding his gaze and drawing him in. Without thinking he took a step forward, his ankle catching on a tree root that he hadn’t seen previously, and then he was pitching forward and as everything went black he heard a fond voice say:

“You really should be more careful, John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) 
> 
> This wasn't quite how I had planned to end it but I accidentally got a bit archaeological and the stuff I wrote didn't flow particularly well so I cut it to where it is now.
> 
> Perhaps it won't be another 6 years before I post again!

**Author's Note:**

> The second part will be posted tomorrow :)


End file.
